The Light of the World
by Stug147
Summary: In a distopian future a group of nomads, due to unfortunate events must escape from an ever increasing threat. The past is a mystery and the future is evermore uncertain.
1. Chapter 1

They had been travelling for many weeks now, away from Blackwater; when the predator advances it is the fate of the prey to move on. A caravan of people was moving along the desert sand, shuffling under the heavy heat of the sun. As with any community of people there were many groups with in the caravan. At the rear there were three young men with the Elders mounted on their shoulder on strange chair-like apparatus that allowed the men to walk as though they had nothing on their back. There were two elderly men on their shoulders and one woman, their names were; Yecht, Sari and Dural. Yecht had once been the leader of this group of people and had once been looked up to as a fierce leader, and indeed still was by a select few within the tribe but unfortunately opinions of Yecht were as different to one another as the sun is to the moon. While some still thought him a mighty warrior others thought him an incredible fool and doubted much of what he said. These opinions sprang from Yecht's past leadership. The years had not been kind to Yecht, the years in the sun had made his skin dark and wrinkled but as he had lived his life he had taken the changes gracefully. As his cheeks became more striking and his chin protruded like a cliff he had grown a short grey goatee and groomed his long white hair carefully. He looked, now like a stern skull that was on the verge of laughing at any moment

The biggest threat that the village faced was a group named "Blackwater" a fearsome group that destroyed all that they touched. It was, and still is thought, by a few, that the men of Blackwater are the embodiment of evil and are unable to be killed by mere men. Others think that Blackwater are men that have forgotten all compassion and hope and are what awaits anybody who allows themselves to leave their humanity. There were hundred of ideas surrounding Blackwater that varied from tribe to tribe and from person to person between each tribe, but one thing was a constant; Blackwater are foul creatures. Yecht had once refused to be chased, once again, away by approaching Blackwater agents – which was the norm for a tribe that large – but instead stayed and fought. Yecht had received a staff in the time before the battle, a staff with the head made of a metal much stronger than even Blackwater had ever seen. The metal was the most gorgeous silver that looked cyan in the right light. It shimmered, with perfect hexagonal gleams and never blunted; this was the tribe's prized possession. Yecht had killed three Agents that day but had lost many men, since then the leadership of the clan was given to a different family least because Yecht had no children to his name. Their clan was treated like royalty for the years to follow but the story was just a pathetic glimmer of hope now and nothing more, the clan was simply known as "The Ones That Stood" (the story goes that Yecht's clan stood in a line for a few seconds before the battle began, but the story, so old and passed from mouth to mouth the events of that day have been thinned by time and are only fond fairytales now.)

Sari was another elder of the village though sat rather awkwardly on the shoulders of the man she was riding. She didn't much like being excluded from the group and especially didn't like being excluded from Tunara, Sari followed Tunara like a friendly pet, not that Tunara minded however.

Sari was found by the tribe many years ago in the most peculiar of circumstances, she was, what seemed the sole survivor of a Blackwater drowning; all of the buildings that surrounded her were flattened and people had been brutally murdered all about her. There skulls had been crushed like flat tires and the sand of the desert had hardened like dough, congealed with blood by the time the tribe had discovered the sight. They found Sari in a pile of rubble and had assumed she must have seen everything; her friends skinned and brutally dismembered all about her. They would have, of course, asked her but the whole ordeal had made the timid old lady forever mute and she didn't utter a word.

Her hair was frizzy like and orb about her head and when on the back of the men it seemed to drift about her head like tumble weed catching the wind. She wore, what many in the village thought was too much, with huge ribbons tied about her neck and shoulders, and pieces of material of every colour. They might have commented on her peculiar attire but Sari was a brilliant seamstress and made all of the clothes for the tribe. Each piece of clothing however was branded with a strange sigil; a sailing ship with a strange symbol along its hull. At first this was of much fascination to the people of the village but now, having lived with Sari it seemed too normal to kick up a fuss about. They thought she must have lived by the sea when she was younger and had seen this ship when she was only a child.

Dural was an interesting character too, he had short black hair and a pointed rat-like nose. He was on the shoulders of one of the smallest men in the group, Jonan and was giving him a long and lengthy tale about his interesting youth. Dural told some of the best stories in the village but almost everybody, apart from the children, took them as mere stories. He spoke of himself fighting off hoards of Blackwater agents, often said he was once part of Blackwater but had somehow found the good within himself to leave. Once or twice he talked of fearsome beasts that he had fought in his youth, dragon and giants that littered the land to the west, which was convenient because nobody knew what was to the west. Dural's stories, while amusing to some, often caused problems in the tribe as sometimes his stories started to involve other people in the tribe or struck a nerve with some of the other members. Dural had once told a mighty story about saving a woman named Xertia. Xertia was once the leader of the clan's daughter (the leader following Yecht, Hendax) she then married the current leader of the tribe, Lincoln, bringing him the power of leadership and also two sons before she died, days after he youngest sons birth. When Dural told his story about Xertia, he intended it to be a noble story of her life but unfortunately her still grieving husband almost killed him in a fight and would have left him in the sand to fend for himself if it wasn't for Tunara, Xertia's younger sister.

Leading the group was Lincoln and his son Timothy, a few strides behind them was Tunara and Cynodel, missing the company of Sari.

"Son we are heading to the basin, it is still a few days travel from here" Lincoln told his son, looking off to the horizon, silently ignoring his legs needing to stop.

"Yes father you told me yesterday, and the day before that." Timothy spoke with the slightest hint of pomposity that was almost immediately detected by his father.

"You know, you always think you have the whole world sorted out but one day you'll have to make the decisions for our tribe and I daresay you might need me to tell you things twice." Lincoln ruffled the hair of his son who winced, clearly not enjoying this at all.

Interrupting from behind sounded the voice of Tunara. "If I'm not interrupting a quality father and son bonding moment the people are getting tired and I think it'd be best for us all to find shade and take a rest." She pointed out to a huge dune that was casting a large enough shadow for the entire convoy to settle in. she waited barely a moment before she made the anticipated sarcastic remake "Or does our leader here, Lincoln, have a better plan." Tunara had brilliant sapphire eyes and grey hair that strangely made her look youthful, though her tired looking brother-in-law had had no such kindness; he had grown old with as much grace as toppling rhino. Where her figure stood as tall as ever Lincoln's back showed the first signs of a hum.

Lincoln begrudgingly turned to face her and said "nope that sounds brilliant I could do with some rest" he screwed up his face in the strangest of smiles turning his eyes into wrinkled messes and his cheeks rippled the begrudging smile outward like waves in water. His face almost immediately fell to his normal glum still impression. "I wonder why you aren't in charge Tunara." He said with a cheeky tone to end the discussion.

Tunara turned to the group, still walking, but backward now and flailed her arms in the air as though she was drowning, she yelled "We're just going to stop a moment to catch our breathe!" but not a single person moved an inch and those that looked up at her arm waving malarkey had continued doing what they were doing before she finished her sentence. There was a moment she checked that everybody had ignored her then on an off step Lincoln stopped. Tunara walked into the back of Timothy (Lincoln's son) but on that second that entire caravan had stopped and looked up to hear what Lincoln had to say.

It had been near twenty years since Xertia died and at the time she and Lincoln lead the tribe together. When she passed Tunara thought that she would assume command but she had no experience and thought too little about the tribe in general, and instead focused on every person individually. Those that followed Tunara followed her absolutely but Lincoln still was favoured by much of their clan. Whenever Tunara became too puffed up with steam and refused to function within the clan Lincoln decided to hold an election, but last time the votes were closer than he would have liked therefore there hadn't been such an event for months.

"We're going over into the shade," pointing over to the dune. "Tunara thinks we need a rest!" Some of the younger men made a sort of disagreeing grunt then started to walk over and soon everybody was walking over to the shade. Mockingly Lincoln turned to Tunara, "Oh that's why," feigning surprise.


	2. Chapter 2

The cold sands settled many of their tired limbs and some, like Lincoln resorted to lying in the sand half buried. Timothy sat down beside him with his feet dug into the dune, they both stayed silent for some time, both watching over their tribe who were all, in their own way relaxing. Timothy had been counselled by his father for many years and had never had the opportunity to join the guard with his brother. Timothy's resemblance was no to the sunken face of his father but strangely resembled Yecht with his high cheek bones and chiselled chin. His face was littered with tiny black hairs that were either the sign of change for the man's look or a demonstration of his laziness and his hair roamed free on the top of his head. The elders of the village had been given their ground back and as expected Sari joined Tunara and Cynodel. The three ladies sat down into the sands themselves talking and every now and again fell silent only to give Lincoln a disgusted look before bursting into even faster conversation. Timothy's brother, Franklin was on the other side of the tribe with Jonan and Zaren. Jonan had joined their tribe not twelve years ago and had come through from Lincoln's brother's tribe, with a message for Lincoln. Since then he had made quite an impression. Lincoln told him at the time, he could stay until he wanted to return but, knowing how long the journey is and how difficult it can be Lincoln didn't truly expect Jonan to ever go back to Jordan in the east, nor did he think that Jonan did. As Franklin spoke to Jonan, Lincoln could tell that Jonan was terrified. It was only a year since young Jonan had stabbed Lincoln's eldest son, something that Franklin hadn't forgiven Jonan for. As both Timothy and Lincoln watched as they saw Franklin make several movements with his arm towards the women of the village and off Jonan went, to do his normal duties. (Caring for the sick, the old and the down right annoying. Jonan was often seen in the company of Dural.). Though most of the men in the village looked like huge goliaths Jonan didn't, no thanks to the fact he hadn't to do any physical labour, ever since the 'accidental' stabbing. Lincoln raised his arm out of the sand and gestured his eldest son over but both Zaren and Franklin got up. Zaren and Franklin looked similar in the way that they were both huge, their muscles were tones and looked like they were close to breaking stone, though both were striking neither looked grotesque.

Zaren's tanned skin was topped with black hair that was tied back into a small pony tale. The knot looked like it was at breaking point as his hair was just about to spring into action, his long arched nose dominated his face leaving his topaz eyes hidden under a thick brow. Franklin had much shorter hair that was almost bold on either side, giving his entire skull a daringly square look coupled with his wide angular jaw.

"I have told you, your father doesn't like how you treat Jonan." Zaren spoke in hushed tones as they passed a group of the villagers, he didn't like them to think things happened in the tribe without Lincoln's say-so, "I know he stabbed you but that was near a year ago now."

"A stabbing doesn't age, he still stabbed me." Franklin replied as they both walked, he raised his garments to reveal a gruesome contorted scar on this stomach, "I don't care if it was an accident or not, none of the other men have stabbed me."

"Doesn't matter he could still be useful, especially in Ochreton."

"Father and you came from Ochreton before mother brought you into the tribe, what's it like?"

Zaren stopped a moment to think of the word as though the process demanded so much brain power he could no longer coordinate his legs while thing. Franklin stopped a moment after. "Inhospitable." Zaren started to walk off again leaving Franklin thinking for a second before darting up the hill to catch up.

"Thanks for the great detailed description." Franklin jokingly said this as he tapped Zaren's shoulder and joined his family in the cool sand. "Alright Tim?" he asked happily slapping his little brother's leg. Timothy didn't reply instead he appreciatively raised his head slightly then turned to his father.

"When will we reach Ochreton, dad?" Timothy's voice was slightly higher than Franklin's though either's could not be described as a squeak.

Zaren answered the question, "The dunes move like the waves of the ocean. The basin could be over the next one or the hundredth after that, hopefully we'll be there in a couple more days though." Lincoln nodded still watching Tunara. Franklin noticed him looking and soon all of them were looking at the three women as they slowly made their way through the crowd in the tribe. "Lincoln don't worry she won't be too annoying until Ochreton, she says she has _'Great ways to help the tribe in Ochreton'_ though sounds more like great ways to make you look a fool." Zaren spoke as though he was treading on a fine wire he could barely see. He and Tunara had been sleeping in the same tent now for almost seven years and tried to be as fair as possible when talking to both of them.

Lincoln squinted over at Jonan then back at his son, with the slightest twirl in his mouth. Franklin met his glance with the flattest of looks and with the a victimised tone; "Is nobody remembering that I was stabbed by that incompetent fool?"

His brother answered in a jolly tone that brought the slightest chuckle to the men. "Continue forcing him to listen to Dural and he'll probably do it again."

The tribe moving was not an uncommon occurrence, in fact to many of the younger people most of their time in the tribe had been spent moving their homes. They lived in a desert - the size of which wasn't known, even by Dural or Yecht- although they did know of a few geographical features surrounding them. Their knowledge of the north was meagre at the best of times; Blackwater was based in the north. To the east Jordan, Lincoln's brother lived with his tribe and if you travelled far enough east there was water that reached out to the horizon and beyond. North East; large sand stone cliffs blocked the passage of people and knowledge. The land beyond the cliffs was known as the White Desert ( a man had once climbed down the cliffs and shared many stories of the land above the desert but this had been many years ago). West of the tribe there were much rougher lands where only truly desperate people or groups would venture. Wild beasts and crazed animals stalked the lands. South west was where the "God Spears" stood. These enormous spears sticking from the ground could have only been thrown into it; they rose higher into the sky than anything that had ever been seen.

The supernatural sight of these dark spears would be enough to send most men running. The select few that decided to venture toward them were often reminded of a famous tale in these lands. The name Gabronia was known by all, a sort of fairy tale with a not so happy ending. He believed after a few drinks that the "God Spears" was not a sign of god's rage but of his presence and thought that at the centre of the spears, there was a gift for the men, a gift to fight Blackwater with. To many of the people around Gabronia that was the news they wanted to hear their entire life and soon he was being pushed from all sides to follow through with his plan; to visit the spears. He left with thirty or forty people eager to find their saviour. As the figure moved further and further into the distance the naysayers watched as the sky turned and a great lightning storm began to brew. Gabronia and his men tried to run back but by the time they had turned they were hit with three bolts of lighting and all were vaporised into the air, needless to say not many people went to the "God Spears".

To the south of the travelling tribe there was a drop in the desert floor into much more fertile lands. The boring flat land fell away to give rise to an entirely different world, living emeralds and glorious greens made up a sea of leaves. The thick jungle was as dense as lead, not a single praying eye could penetrate the lush top layer of the forest. The basin was safe from Blackwater but was hardly safe from anything else, people like Lincoln and Zaren knew the dangers of the basin like nobody else and they were walking straight back into it. Though Lincoln had never been told his sons the full story of his years in Ochreton, a town, near city, in the basin, he had been very clear to his boys that it was a place that he'd much rather avoid. With Blackwater coming further south than ever and the scarcity of land with other rivalling tribes it seemed that they would be forced back down into the valley.

While travelling Timothy was well aware of the toil his father was enduring and the strain manifested in an even greater loathing of Tunara. In the final days of their travels Lincoln looked at least eighty having not slept and not ate in days. His face looked like the whole of it was about to sag off his face, lying heavily above his eyes drawing long shadows under them. Zaren too was stressed but not to the same extent, he stopped joking about and just seemed to walk (in a stern sort of way in the way someone would look forward pretending they were thinking about something to avoid being talked to).

When they reached the edge they could see deep down into the basin and it looked as calm as any forest but they could hear a strange murmur as though someone was muttering in their tribe. Lincoln and Zaren exchanged a knowing glance and they all camped for the final time at the top of the pit, with the murmur following them about like a bad smell. Franklin and Timothy had found a ledge on which to perch, they stared down onto the green canopy that hid the people below.

"What aren't they telling us?" Timothy asked his brother sort of airily, asking anybody who might answer though his brother was the only one in earshot.

"I think if they wanted us to know they would have told us." His elder brother eventually did reply but there was a long pause as they both looked absent-mindedly into the ocean of green spread out before them. "Zaren is stressed too though, what ever it was it was before dad and Zaren joined the tribe."

"Do you think it had anything to do with Xertia?" said Timothy, still in a sort of trance with the shimmering leaves. Franklin winced at the mention of his mothers name; he had known her, if only for a few years, he still remembered her smile fondly though often contested the fact his younger brother never called her 'mum'.

"No dad said she had never visited the basin and he met her up here on the surface." Franklin spoke solemnly as though to appease the spirits for his brother's speech. Franklin got to his feet, he was getting tired and hadn't realised they had both been staring at the trees for almost an hour though it felt like only ten minutes. He raised his thick black eye brows and in a smooth movement grabbed his much smaller brother by the scruff of his neck and the band about his waist. Raising him to his feet Franklin then suddenly lifted him off the ground and moved him slightly over the edge and Timothy went completely stiff with fear, yelling and screaming. Placing his brother down onto his feet again Franklin chortled and began to walk away. "One day I might drop you and playing dead'll be useless to you." Franklin face split into a full blown grin by the time he had once again reached the camp, leaving Timothy to silently calm his nerves and slow his heart rate.


	3. Chapter 3

They woke early the next morning as the edge of the sun kissed the sky, setting the sky ablaze with ambers and reds. It took only a few hours of well practiced labour for the entire tribe to pack away their temporary village and get ready to move out. Yecht, Sari and Dural all took to their feet, as for the decent they would not require the shoulders of anybody in the tribe.

The descent ahead of them was steep and formidable. The earth was made of fine sandstone that was indistinguishable from the loose sand that could fall away like water. The rock itself was weak, that was if you could find it amongst the sand. Once into the canopy of the forest one had to contend with the branches and leaves while trying to climb down and because there were so few who did the journey there were no paths.

Zaren was to lead the men down first, trailblazing a path for the rest of the village to follow. Lincoln, Timothy, Tunara, her cohort would lead the rest of the clan and follow after, then regroup at reasonable intervals. Timothy watched his father get ready for the decent and could already see the dread leaking out between his wrinkles. The two separate groups had finally formed and Lincoln, Timothy, Zaren and Franklin met briefly before beginning the journey.

They huddled tightly like a well functioning team, Lincoln facing his friend and his two sons facing one another.

"Franklin you go with Zaren, and place guides at every part you think our group will need assistance then wait at any portion of the cliff that would hold the entire tribe. Timothy I want you to stay with me, I need someone to talk to while Tunara bites my ear off." Momentarily Zaren looked abashed at Lincoln then down at his feet. " This journey should take us all day, but last time Zaren and I climbed it, it took us no longer than an hour, remember?"

Zaren raised his glum face from his feet and gave a fleeting smile before his face was washed with confusion, "Correct me if I'm wrong but you almost fell, would have died."

"Not wrong at all, we need to go slowly rushing could kill us, so lets all take it slowly and hope that nobody falls." Lincoln looked side to side from one son to the other before separating the small square of men. He put his arm around Timothy and made his way back to the group of women, elders and Jonan. Franklin grabbed Zaren and the jogged back to meet up with the twenty of so men that all followed Franklin's every word. Although Zaren was near double the age of Franklin he followed orders just the same as any of the other men: reverently. Franklin organised the men quickly and the set off without a single glance at the other group. The sun had scarcely broken free of the horizon by the time the last of Franklin's group dropped into the basin.

"If you think we are just going to wait here doing nothing…" Tunara started up, before they had even started walking but Lincoln was quick to make he feel ill-at-ease, he needed to make it abundantly clear she wasn't to talk during this trip.

"Tunara if you go near that cliff before I say we should go I might have you kicked of the edge." Lincoln showed a fleeting grimace.

It wasn't Timothy's role to defend his father or attack him, whenever any argument with anyone in the tribe broke out he fell silent and hoped that, that was what his father wanted. Behind him though he heard Tunara turn to Cynodel; "He'd have me kicked off, wouldn't do his own dirty work, hear that?" Timothy checked that his father hadn't heard, either he hadn't and was very interested in the plain horizon or he had and wouldn't give Tunara that satisfaction. Timothy assumed it was the latter.

They had been waiting for what felt like hours. All of the remaining people on the surface had resorted to sitting and small conversations broke out. Tunara and her comrades were moving about the place seeing to the women and talking to them all individually.

"Dad, don't you think that you should talk to the women too?" Timothy broke the silence between them.

His father, deep in thought afforded a long blink then turned slowly to see what was behind him. "I am not in the business of mooching." There was another pause because Timothy didn't quite know how to respond and also because Lincoln just seemed to follow Tunara with his bright blue eyes. Then suddenly he hopped to his feet with feverously young tenacity and shouted "Let's move out people!" All of the tribe's people rose to their feet and followed their leader as he stormed off. Looking back Timothy had noticed that Tunara was now at the back of the pack, ignorantly forcing her way through the crowd to get to the front, just behind Lincoln.

"That was cruel," Timothy said slightly jogging to catch up to his father.

"It would have been cruel to do nothing, she just told Jonan I was a 'dittery old bag of bones' and he looked like he wanted to lop her head off." Lincoln retorted still walking on, leaving his confused son behind as he analyses the face of their following cohort.

They had started to descend the steep sides of the basin when Tunara finally caught up with them, annoying many of the members of the tribe in doing so. The ground was dry and the sand as fluid as ever, Lincoln took his time leading their group, spread out like a lanky spider feeing ever bump before committing his full weight to it. Every now and then the old man would be too quick to trust and the ground would punish him, by crumbling under his feet. As they descended Licnoln went first and then Timothy, strategically placed to be a barrier between his father and his aunt.

"You know there is a much easier slope over to the right!" she yelled down to Lincoln though he granted her no reply.

"Maybe tell Zaren and the others when we all meet up?" Timothy spoke with a sincere tone and gave her the slightest smile before continuing on. He paused once again as his father stood on a tiny ledge just beneath him.

"Hello Bitriel" Lincoln spoke and shook hands with one of Franklin's men. Bitriel was precariously clinging on to the side of the cliff with huge arms that looked ready to split the rock instead of grab them. Silently Bitriel pointed to another platform below them and slightly to the right. Lincoln handed the man his flask and made space for him to come onto the ledge and drink. "Tag on at the back once we have passed, if you need to stop and have a further drink before following, do so, we don't want anyone to fall." Lincoln continued down the slope with half of the original caravan behind him. Cynodel now was behind Timothy as Tunara had stayed beside Bitriel as the rest of the tribe passed, undoubtedly making it awkward and difficult for the rest of the tribe, having to squeeze past on such a tiny ledge.

"She is being a complete idiot!" Lincoln scoffed. Cynodel huffed from behind Timothy and then Lincoln offered a childish grimace. "She'll knock somebody off just because she saw me be friendly to that boy."

"Dad," Timothy started in an attempt to silence him but the topic seemed to change before it left his mouth. "Why were you and Zaren in Ochreton to begin with?" there was a silence that can only be described as heavy. His father looked up at Timothy through a thick brow and finally conceded.

"Zaren, Jordan and myself grew up here, but I can tell you it isn't the sort of childhood one wants." Cynodel was craning her neck to hear, of course ready to report to Tunara but Lincoln spoke in a soft, quiet fathering tone that was barely reaching Timothy's ears over the constant murmur from below the leaves. "We all ran around together and actually were thought to be all brothers by some of the people in Ochreton, though they didn't think of us fondly. Mostly we were childish and caused a little too much mayhem, nothing serious just jokes and tricks. Once or twice we came to the surface to see what it was like and on one of those times we met Xertia and Hendax, your grandfather. They convinced the three of us to leave and so we did."

Timothy had never asked about his father's childhood mostly because it never crossed his mind that he had one, all he had known was that his mother and father had come from different places and Lincoln had joined the tribe through marrige. "So Uncle Jordan left then too?"

"No Jordan was part of our tribe for a few years but then when Blackwater kept coming closer than he liked he moved out to the east, leading most of the tribe too. Hendax wasn't overly enthused though, god I still remember that old man killing his voice yelling after Jordan. It was a good thing that Jordan broke up the tribe. It was too big, too much effort to move away from Blackwater. Hendax just didn't like to see people leave him that's all."

Timothy nodded and did so during his father story but then they both fell silent for the remaining descent only talking to the guides left from Timothy's cohort. The third man they came across however was Franklin himself.

"Son?" Lincoln seemed confused to see him but not angry in fact he seemed almost relieved.

"Zaren said that there weren't any other ledges so we have to make the full descent with no breaks, we took a wrong turn at somepoint."

"Damn! For God's sake don't tell Tunara or I will hear about it for days."

Half chuckling Franklin told them that he would take the lead down and they will just have to be more careful, the message passed like the juiciest story Dural could make and soon the group was teaming with the intensity of their concentration, barely a single word was said.

Much time had passed before the cliff began to flatten out. For a while the land was too steep to walk down and to shallow to climb so people were making do with strange crab like attempt of movement and other more unorthodox manoeuvres. While Lincoln was sprolled out like a crab a young man bounded up to him and whispered something in his ear. Lincoln beamed up at his tribe and then shouted, "Follow me, and take out any covers of lids, big enough to sit on!" Tunara scoffed but still followed him reluctantly.

They all shimmied along the cliff to three of the first group that stood beaming at Timothy and his family. "We found this half way down and then climbed back up to the top, it is very smooth and goes all the way to the bottom." He gestures to a huge sandy slope that stretched all the way down to the trees beneath.

Lincoln looked jolly and several years younger than he had on the cliff face. "Boys, these sloped are good fun… well they were when I was a teenager. Just like a mud slide in the rainy season. Lean back and don't slow yourself by sticking a foot in the sand, you might break it." He reached round to the back of one of the men's packs and pulled a large metal shield that all of the men had on their backs. He handed it to both his sons then gestured for them to go.

Timothy took the shield lay it onto the enormous sand dune. And slowly shifted his weight onto the shield carefully and meticulously checking it was solid. He heard Franklin scuff and could picture his rolling his eyes. Then a few clanks of his brother removing his pack. Timothy knew what was coming but before he could get back off the shield his brother dived onto it, grasping Timothy by the legs and swivelling him about so they both sat side by side with Franklin's pack between them. The shield dug in slightly on the right side as Franklin weighed considerably more than Timothy. They raced down the slope, the shield rumbling underneath them, the odd bump shooting them up like a tiny jump. The sand whizzed past and they drew a huge dusty line behind them. While Franklin cheered and wooed like a crazed child Timothy grabbed the pack as tightly as he could. The trees were flying toward them with unprecedented speed and they barely made a gap with the side of the cliff, some of the branches were even buried in the sand. Out of nowhere a large rocky edge appeared in the sand and without time to do anything (not that they could) the right hand side of the shield clipped it. They were hurtled into a spin and both brothers were pulled out. Timothy grabbed around his brother broad shoulders. The scene around them flashed green then amber and green again. Switching faster Timothy knew they must be spinning faster and faster. All of a sudden they were consumed by green and thrown from the shield. Timothy fell into the sand face first and flew through it, like a biting wild. His head rose above the sand as he shot through it with tremendous speed, sliding down on his belly. To his right his brother was doing the same though he had many scrapes and scratches on his face, filled with sand, his face was undoubtedly forming an enormous smile. With the grace of a flying bird Franklin came over to Timothy into earshot.

"ARE YOU OK!?" Franklin shouted over the rushing of the wind and the murmur of the forest.

"YEAH, YOU!?" Timothy shouted gesturing with his head at his brothers cut face. All of a sudden another huge stony edge seemed to jut out from the sand and Timothy froze, flying straight toward it. Franklin grabbed his shoulder and pushed him aside, flying the other way himself, re-grouping on the other side of the huge protruding mountain.

"THIS IS AWESOME!" Franklin yelled.

"WHERE IS THE SHIELD!" Timothy screamed taking no notice of his brother's enjoyment. The slope was very steep and for some reason felt as though it was getting steeper. The bodies of the brother just skipped along on the surface barely making a dent though Timothy certainly was feeling the effects of being on the sand with no protection. Suddenly like a trained surfer Franklin jumped to his feet and wiggled on the spot to keep his balance though seemed to shoot upwards from Timothy, as they still hurtled down the slope. Flipping onto his back to face his brother, and to relieve his front from the constant bombardment of bumps Timothy say Ochreton for the first time, admittedly upside down.

They town looked brown and dirty, the light fragmented through the leaved giving at a strange green hue. The buildings all grow up to the level of the branches and stopped. The trees were kept in place though didn't look natural, all of the lower branches had been cut or burned away leaving desperately depressive trunks and shot up as though to escape the people of the city.

Moments later his brother returned shooting past Timothy riding the shield expertly then hoisted Timothy onto it. His stomach and chest felt simultaneously cold and hot, his body emanating heat to the thousands of minute cuts that seared cold like ice. The slope started to level out and both of them sat on the shield as they flew down into the basin, Franklin sporting a goofy smile and Timothy looking utterly horrified.


	4. Chapter 4

Once all of the tribe had reached the bottom of the basin, some dishevelled and disorientated others enthused and energetic. After their hair rising decent there were no casualties, almost entirely thanks to Franklin who, after reaching the bottom ordered the men to guide others down, to avoid the rough patches of the slope. There was a quiet murmur, equal to that, that introduces a long awaited speech, but the murmur was overshadowed by the smoky noise of the city. The noise and the lights seemed to linger in the forest like a bad smell, weaving between the trees. Amber lights illuminated the trees' bark and there leaves seemed to become sickly under the lights. Within the forest the air smelled of smoked logs, strangely mixed with fresh flowers, which made for a never pleasant but agreeable smell. The ground was quite bare, revealing the intertwined roots of the forest like a panicking network buzzing just underfoot. None of the trees had any branches until the very top and many of them had scorched marks looking as though to cauterise the wounds of removed branches. The trunks stood tall, shooting up as though running away from the people on the ground.

Tunara set about her normal business of seeing to the people of the tribe with a few looks from Lincoln. "You know you might do well to do similarly, they don't like moving and right now she is the only leader that is paying any attention to them." Zaren broke into Lincoln's silent meditation.

Giving his old friend a glance with raised eye brows, he slumped his shoulders as though he had been defeated or deflated. Another breathe in and he replied, "once we talk to" there was the briefest of pauses that had Lincoln's eyes dart to his sons, about him. "Our old friend we should be out of Ochreton and into the wider basin, hopefully to finally settle."

Zaren twitched.

"What are we getting from him?" Timothy asked, taking no notice of the subtleties between his father and Zaren.

"Hopefully supplies and money though" another pause "it has been a long time.

Zaren turned away and casually ambled about the men that had just been visited by Tunara.

It was not long after, when Zaren and Lincoln ventured into Ochreton, leaving Timothy and Franklin to find the sight to camp, though when to two older gentlemen left them Franklin had his younger brother in a head-lock. The two men, with more days lived than they had, still, to live walked through a town they both scarcely recognised. They hadn't visited that city if nearly forty years and much had changed. All of the building had new names and new people walked the street though they recognised the smell and the amber lights that coated everything. As they made their way through the back streets of the city they began to walk on wider roads, some were even pathed; they were walking into the centre of the city, turning more and more heads as they approached the epicentre.

Finally around one large wooden building that creaked with blacked wooden panels and dimmed windows (Zaren thought it to be a whore house), they say an enormous building. This building was much larger than anything else in the city. Shimmering like the sun bouncing from the rippling ocean, it reflected ever leaf perfects. Around it sprawled the dusty black-wood houses that looked like drunken men; about to fall over and not quite sure what they were meant to be doing. The perfection of the building was known to both Zaren and Lincoln, yet neither seemed to be oblivious to it glittering glory. The top of it was adorned with a huge cathedral-like dome that looked emerald green. The building a three tall towers that shot up like the trees that still masked the sky, but still didn't breach the canopy. The towers were also shiny but they had an inexplicable dullness to them though it was clear that every face of the building was polished daily.

Zaren and Lincoln walked with more gusto, marking down the cobbled streets toward the gleaming building. Around the huge building the land rose up, presumably to allow the magnificent building to be even taller. At the ground level of the building there was a huge arc that both men walked through, into the shadowy interior of the cathedral.

Inside all of the walls were dimly lit with huge drooping candles and thousands of them lead the way down a corridor that seemed to have no end. Eventually the silent walking men found a door on their left and followed it yet deeper into the enormous building.

It took them some time to get to their destination but finally Lincoln lead into a huge room. The room was so tall that there seemed to be mist at the top, like clouds, slightly obscuring the ceiling. Around the decorated ceiling there were huge triangular windows of thick glass that were blindingly bright and showered the whole space with green light from the leaves outside. Enormous dark wooden panels ran down to walls with candles every few metres, needlessly illuminating the gain of the wood. In the centre of the room was spire of impossibly stacked books and an iron staircase that rapped them in. the ground was littered, too, with literature, in huge mountains that seemed to melt down into the floor spreading out like ice cream.

Lincoln raised his chin while Zaren walked about the room to nowhere in particular. "We have come to address the Witchdoctor." Lincoln spoke loudly and clearly. With a crackle that sounded near lightning though startled neither men an incredible voice echoed through the hall like a roaring lion.

"Well, you two, to be honest I hadn't expected to see you both come back into these halls… well not doing it alive. Which rock have you two been hiding under?"

"Witchdoctor, we know that you are just playing games, if you wanted us dead we'd know about it." Lincoln continued to speak to the centre of the room with his chin raised while Zaren wondered about, picking up the occasional book then tossing it into the piles.

"Curious most that share your sentiment say 'would be dead' not 'know about it'… none the less, as usual Link you are correct." The voice sounded deep like some sort of godly presence though neither seemed to fear or worship it at all. "Will you please unhand those artefacts!" the candle seemed to shake themselves awake and shine brightly as the voice shouted.

"Yes sir." Zaren said automatically, placing the book down, more gingerly than before.

"We have come to negotiate." Lincoln gave Zaren a furtive glance then raised his chin again to address the surrounding voice.

"Oh an agreement is what you seek?"

"It is Witchdoctor." Zaren spoke up joining Lincoln

"And how can you think you have anything that I want, look about you, I have all that any man could ever dream of."

"Didn't he notice?" Lincoln asked quietly to his partner on his right.

"OF COURSE I NOTICED YOU BLITHERING BAFFOON!" the voice boomed from all directions feeling as though it was seeping out from the inside of the men's skulls. "You didn't think I would over look the missing codes from all of my back-ups?"

"Well we thought you might have forgotten." Lincoln said with a crooked smile.

"You are aware you are locked in here until I decide you can leave?"

"You are aware you're not getting your code until we leave this building." Lincoln said barely raising his voice from one we would use to address Zaren, beside him.

"What do you want for it?" the Witchdoctor's voice sounded tired and weary for a moment then gained strength again.

"Land and peace." Lincoln said loudly and clearly.

"And then we will leave and you will never have to see us again," added Zaren though why, Lincoln was unsure.

"But surely I'd be given my code by that point." The voice said this very quickly. Then continued in it's normal grand fashion. "I own a little land out to the south of Ochreton, it isn't much but your tribe should have enough room to… rest, I assume that your stay is only brief." Both men's posture became tense and they stared into the open space as soon as the Witchdoctor had mentioned the tribe. Zaren fidgeting kept looking at Lincoln, presumably for a reassuring glance that never came. "Oh surprised by how much I know?" a coarse laugh filled the air and the heads of the two old men. "You'd be surprised of what my ears hear these days."

"What have you heard of Blackwater!?" Lincoln shouted out immediately.

"Ah he wants to know of the enemy, as curious as ever. Well Link, I have heard of six separate clans, all varying in size, that have been drowned since the winter. They appear to be progressing south faster than ever… of course the people of Ochreton need not worry they know I will protect them from Blackwater." There was another tense pause in which Zaren shuffled on the spot. "If you want anything else I'll have my code and you can have your land… temporarily."

"We each learned half." Lincoln lowered his head as though to concede.

"BH7D8JFEUOWN." Zaren spoke clearly and flawlessly.

"HDYE6RGBWCF6." Lincoln then rattled through his section, as though trying to slur his words. As Lincoln finished an audible clunk sounded behind him and both men looked at one another.

"Now gentlemen, I'm sure you will find the land with little problems, I'm sure we will be seeing much of one another in the future." At the end the voice shrunk and shrivelled up become high pitched and weaker.

Zaren turned to Lincoln and followed him out of the large hall back along the corridor and out into the bright city of Ochreton.


	5. Chapter 5

As predicted the pair found the land with little difficulty and then brought the tribe over to it to camp. The atmosphere was that of awkward business, few new of Lincoln and Zaren's connections in Ochreton and found it strange there were very little problems obtaining the land.

The air was still all around the area, in all directions all one could see were brown trunks shooting up, no sign of people and surprisingly the space didn't even give evidence of Ochreton nearby. As people lay down their packs and they began to build their tents from sticks from the forest and some they had carried and some sheets of cloth they had brought; the canopy above them was so thick that they needed almost no protection from rain, but still they wished for privacy. Through the centre of the camp Zaren strutted checking that nobody was without help who required it. Watching from the other side was Lincoln with his youngest son by his side. Both men watched Zaren absentmindedly before Timothy spoke up just as Tunara had found Zaren.

"Father can you tell me how you persuaded 'Witdoctor' to part with his land with no money?"

Lincoln winced slighty, this was the question he least wanted to be asked however he did not lie to his son, "I gave him something I took from him a long time ago, and the name is the 'witchdoctor', but I hope we have little dealings with him in the future... He is… irrational."

Timothy noticed the pauses that were normally absent from his father's words and took it to mean that was the subject was not one to continue to pursue. Instead he entered a different discussion about the forest. Timothy had noticed that many of the trees were scorched and blackened and found that the people of Ochreton scorch them to prevent foliage from the lower tree and encourage growth higher in the tree.

The time pasted lazily but the entire tribe was settled well before sunset, which came earlier in the basin as it did on the surface. Tunara made her rounds like a paper boy ensuring that everybody was settled and comfortable, many of the other women in the village, those that were generally faithful to Lincoln had a slightly snappier tone with her but still they were never rude. As usual Lincoln his two sons and Zaren were sitting together around a small fire that was giving off little heat.

Zaren and Timothy were gormlessly staring into the fire, watching the rufescent like the still air while Lincoln and Franklin were playing Tackle Sticks. (the game was simple there were two players that took turns building towers of sticks, stacking one on another, each player had the choice to place a stick on two of their towers or place one stick on one of their opponents towers with the aim to cause it to fall over. The player with the tallest standing tower at the end won. ) The game had been on for a few hours now but it was still close. Franklin's towers were tall but precariously balanced , parts of them were only a few sticks thick while Lincolns were meticulously balanced in an escalating hexagonal prism though were significantly smaller, intermingled were a few sticks that were clearly placed by Franklin trying to push the towers from the inside. While mesmerised by the fire Zaren and Timothy were quietly having a chat, talking to the fire as much as one another.

"Does Tunara expect an election soon, she seems to be doing more than usual amongst the people?" his eyes stayed firmly at the fire and talked quite slowly.

"I'm glad you are taking an intrest, your father seems not to care but yes she is expecting another election soon." Zaren looked over at Timothy with a flash and back to the fire at the same speed. "She has been talking about what she'll do when she is voted in for many months now, do you think if there was a vote she would win?"

"Honestly I do, with my father there has been much upheaval, not nearly that of Yecht but still I believe the people expect things will be quieter with Tuna-"

"Will they?"

"My father isn't the one that causes the disruptions it is blackwater, that won't change with Tunara, but I daresay she won't be able to cope with all that is demanded of her, I don't even know all that my dad does but I know he spends many nights without sleep."

"your dad is a good leader, always has been, but he thinks far too much of the entire group not every person, for him a victory would be us escaping Blackwater with a minimum of two deaths though I believe that Tunara would blame herself and see it as a great defeat, that is where they are different."

"I can see that, do you think that Tunara is favoured for being, arguably, the rightful leader?"

"She certainly believes that to be so, but Hendax made it clear that Lincoln was to be his successor not Tunara, the people know that maybe Tunara is still unawares."

Timothy looked up to see the process of the Tackle Sticks game noticing an enormous weakness in Franklins large tower but his sight was soon snatched away by Jonan approaching their circle. Zaren was consequently nudged and they both looked up red-faced at the approaching man. Careful to sit away from Franklin and close to Lincoln he sat between Zaren and Lincoln.

"evening all." Jonan said, receiving different responses, Zaren nodded politely Lincoln rose his hand with a stick in it, keeping his eyes on his towers, Franklin ignored him and Timothy started a conversation with him.

"How is everybody? Did the food stretch far enough?" Timothy had last seen Jonan spreading the last of the clan's food around, which admittedly was not a lot.

"Yes everyone is fed, except Tunara," Zaren looked up. "She gave hers to Yecht." Timothy looked up bighting the inside of his lip; he then looked at Zaren with a knowing look that was returned. "Who is winning? I can never tell with these two." Jonan settled into his seat shuffling closer to Timothy. When neither Franklin nor Lincoln replied Timothy took up the task with a simple point a certain section of Franklin's tower shielded by his body so neither of the players could see anything. Jonan gave a knowing upward nod. "When are we thinking of moving off?" looking at Zaren. "Some people are just wondering how long we'll be near Ochreton." Jonan interjected after the shortest moment.

Lincoln momentarily looked up from his game to say "Tomorrow," and "or as soon as possible."

"We want to be out of here as soon as we can, as soon as people can move on." Zaren said noticing something in Jonan's face, confusion he thought though perhaps fear.

With that Jonan got to his feet, said "Right yeah," did a half bow and left. Timothy puffed his chin tightened his mouth and raised his eyebrows, in a Well-That-Was-Weird sort of way, Zaren raised one eyebrow and gave a minute nod in a I-Know-Right sort of way, and they continued their talk about the politics of their clan, the kind of talk both enjoyed and had often.

The day turned to night with a brilliant green twilight that felt the air was becoming emeralds, an effect of the quilt of leaves overhead. After dark Tunara approached the group, politely greeted everyone about the fire and stole her man away to their tent, Lincoln and his boys sat around the campfire for only another hour before Lincoln brought down Franklin's tower that then knocked the other into the fire, very quickly all of them stamped out their fire to save the sticks and packed the game away into a small dark blue felt pouch and returned to their tent. The three of them had separate, quite private parts of their larger than normal tent with one communal centre.

Only once the camp was smothered in darkness, not even the lights from Ochreton reaching them did Lincoln climb into bed, there was no noise only a few buzzes of bugs disturbed the deafening silence. There were no animals in the basin but the tiniest of howls could be heard from the surface if one held their breath and listened intently. Franklin rolled over to better find sleep and soon he had: a thick dreamless sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Timothy awoke with a start. Outside his family tent a fire was brightly crackling and strangely the chains of sleep fell off immediately. Alert and awake he sat up on the ground with the blankets surrounding him. He got up to see what was happening, and why someone had rebuilt the fire. Just as he had two tiny holes punctured the tent, one across from the other. Peering, quite calmly out of the hole Timothy say the most unholy sight. Many dark figures were moving between the huts and tents that the clan had constructed then the noise hit his ears, having not noticed it until now Timothy was frightfully afraid of the noises from outside; the gentle crackle he had first registered was more like loud cracks and there was screaming. All around him he heard the familiar voices of his friends but they were yelling and screaming in agony. At first he froze like a plank of wood that was then shattered by his brother storming in.

"Tim get down!" his brother screamed in a quiet whisper. Timothy didn't move a muscle. Grabbing his immobilised brother, Franklin thrust him to the floor. "Stay here while I get dad."

Franklin bent over like he had a hunch moved through the tent swiftly like a shadow. Another few tiny holes speckled either side of the tent with a high whiz as the appeared, one appearing inches from Timothy's ear. Then the tent filled with heart wrenching screams, this somehow breathed the life into the rigid man as he, copying Franklin hunched through to the source.

Coming into his father's section Timothy was not expecting what he found. His brother was sat up on the floor with Lincoln sprolled over him like an old blanket. His legs were oddly facing the same way, with his body twisted uncomfortably to be looking up at Franklin. His brain barely functioning Timothy walked over to his brother, not even looking at his dad. Franklin's tanned face was pale under his eyes in tow long straight lines, marking the trails of tears, he trembled un controllably and rocked back and forth gripping the man under him in a rip cracking grasp. Then Timothy saw it. Lincoln was pale, paler than white cloth and his eyes looked like glass balls of blue, not the life filled eyes of a human. His clothes were soaked in a sticky liquid spewing from the enormous gash across his throat that still seemed to convulse and release yet more deep crimson blood. Franklin was drenched too was bent over muttering through his tears to his father yet Timothy felt nothing but disgust. The sight was quite revolting, he thought, so much blood. The blood was dripping down from the walls and smelled putrid and horrid causing Timothy to gag slightly. The curtain that separated the room flew open and there stood Zaren.

"Boys get up." Zaren spoke to them both but looked straight at Franklin though it was Timothy that immediately was standing up, his brother seemingly ignoring Zaren. "Get up Frank!" Zaren issued a similar whisper shout to Franklin who remained rocking back and forth. Timothy stood there for only a moment before concluding he no longer wanted to be in there so moved on out leaving Zaren and Franklin.

Zaren grabbed Franklin under the shoulders and hoisted him up though he wept and shouted in defiance of this, though his body put up no fight and went almost limp looking to fall over at its first opportunity. Zaren grabbed his blood soaked friend and ushered him through the curtain only to find the other boy had vanished, Timothy had left the tent.

"Frank we need to leave do you understand?" Zaren spoke with no sense of sadness but like a robot with no feelings, just a task.

"Who… who would…" Franklin muttered to himself.

"I don't know" Zaren hoisted Franklin up over his shoulder and quickly walked out the tents main entrance.

The entire area seemed to be on fire, the air was still filled with screams of pain and anguish. Amongst the patches of bright infernos hooded figures moved slickly from one place to another some wielding slick red dragger that reflected the dancing flames. Zaren's head flickered back and forth, from left to right peering into the flames as he took massive strides through the burnt-out patches of the camp. While moving along he had unconsciously armed himself with a long spear. Straining his eyes to look for Timothy, he moved on with the still muttering Franklin on his shoulder.

Timothy was staggering through the smoky remains of a couple of the huts, that were scattered with the scorched bodies of others from the tribe. His eyes burned from the smoke, and from within. His eyeballs felt like they were an ovens element before, like a fountain, tears broke forth. He thought only of the smiling face of his father, the father he just let, lying on the floor in the most uncomfortable position. Momentarily he concluded that his father would be much more comfortable lying on his back than twisted on the floor. Suddenly he turned just as two arms grasped him. Like iron bands they held him tight and stopped him from walking.

"Timothy come on, we need to leave." A calming voice slithered into his ear but he heard none of it.

"He needs to sit right, He needs to sit right!" Timothy said first to himself then much louder in a resolute statement. Shaking the arms free he turned to see the tear soaked face of Tunara standing behind him. Before she could open her mouth he ran off like a young child that barely understood where his legs were. Flailing though still travelling at some speed Timothy rounded a bend he did know. He turned on the spot manically then was blinded by a thick cloud of smoke, running from the smoke he had jumped through a blazing wall and it fell out under him. In a flaming tent he found himself with another body on the floor with flecks of white paper littering their bare skin. Timothy's head felt as thick as lard and as heavy. He swept the paper away to reveal red gruesome burns, looking at his hand it was sticky with bloody and congealed skin, he flicked it like to get rid of dirt then looked about. He hadn't recognised the tent or the person though in the back of his mind he thought he should feel sad. Just as his thoughts on the matter began to culminate, with his legs curled into himself and the clothes that formed walls and a roof slowly falling inward one of them was wrenched open with a slick slicing sound. Through the gash in the wall a hooded figure emerged. With one flick of a flame Timothy had dived into him. Grasping the intruder at the waist he forced him back a few feet as he dived on top of him. Like a crazed dog Timothy punched and kicked and flung any spare part at the man we was striding. Having lost his blade the man was as defenceless as Lincoln had been and attempted to shield his head. Timothy pounded down on the man's left shoulder then kneed him in the kidneys then elbowed him in the chest which brought the man's face up only to have Timothy punch him in the tempt. Under the force of the punch the man was knocked out but Timothy didn't stop. In the flurry of action the hood crumpled into the floor revealing a slim tanned face with a well cut jaw and jet black hair, a man Timothy had never seen before.

Zaren had found another four of the men from the tribe and they were moving through the flames finding more bodies and occasionally a person still breathing. On top of many of the men there were limp bodied, that were determined to live. The group moved toward the edge of the camp and lay down the people that were still breathing. Zaren handed them Franklin before dashing back into the blaze for Timothy wherever he was. From one scorched building to another freshly aflame Zaren moved scanning from side to side but then a hooded figure darted out on him with a blade drawn. Out from his cloak Zaren pulled the spear and it was delved deep into the other man's stomach. A pained breathe escaped him and his hand let the blade fall to the ground with a clank. With Zaren on one end of the spear, both hands holding it steady and the stranger on the other, with his belly engulfing the bladed end he tried to lower himself to retrieve his blade. In an instant Zaren had noticed and in another he had raised the spear, lifting the man off his feet. Higher he rose in a gruesome scene until the blade burst out from his back and he began to slide down the spear. Zaren held the spear steady as he slid towards him groaning and dying the wood a deep crimson as he passed. Zaren held the spear with one hand and lowered the hood of the stranger. His face was contorted with pain though even normally it was conceivable that it was just as wrinkled and just as leather like.

"Talek?" Zaren said.

"Zaren," he coughed with a splatter of blood hitting Zaren's face "I thought that we would meet again other different circumstances but you know how it is," Another wheezing cough interjected, "Work is work." Talek spoke in a calm and friendly matter almost oblivious to the lives he had just cut short

"This is the Witchdoctor's doing is it?!" Zaren yelled back at the impaled man, jiggling him slightly for a response but none came. Talek's eyes were still fixed on Zaren's face and words on the end of his tongue but death had come to him too soon. Tossing him aside Zaren continue on through the flames, in the back of his mind wondering who else he might find.

Timothy continued to batter the body beneath him then abruptly stopped when a cold line was pressing into his throat. He could feel it dangerously precisely as though it was that he could think of. Slowly, as was gestured by the blade he stood up away from the man. His pretty face was beaten and bloody now and somehow Timothy thought his brother would appreciate his craftsmanship. The moment his mind re-entered the current situation a voice crept into his ear.

"Come with me and I'll let the rest live, no need for more killing." The voice was unnecessarily low as though he was speaking from his throat. Timothy was not scared no he had passed fear, the emotion fear seemed too simple he found him self in a lucid state of concentration and serenity, having left fear in the flaming tent.

"Ok lets go, but to where are you taking me?" his voice was not that of his own, but some sort of separate entity that was speaking from just under his vision.

Again the rough, throaty, deep voice replied we're going left to begin with." The man behind Timothy swivelled about so he was behind him still and began to push Timothy forwards.

"Where are you taking him?" a normal voice came from over and behind Timothy, not from the man with the blade.

"He's my prize Ludech!" the deep voice answered.

"Prize? We've been told to kill them all, if you can't part with this one let me do it otherwise there'll be no reward for you."

"Then he is the," he burst into a cough letting loose a higher voice, "he is the proof, for exchange for the reward."

Timothy stayed silent as the other man bickered, like how when his father and Tunara bickered, but this time he was listening intently; what was the reward? was this not the leader? Where was he going? And why the pretend voice? They once again started to walk on, timothy being pushed form the man behind him.

"Look _he_ wants them _all_ dead." The other voice said, though Timothy couldn't hear him he new he was a hooded man he had never seen before.

"This one" another cough, though this seemed to be spurred on by a fresh gust of smoke billowing from a recently crumbled tent, "This one can testify," More coughs though still he persisted with the lowered voice. Worried that the coughs might make him slip, Timothy moved ne of his hands onto the hand of his capturer, who seemed not to notice. "This one can stand as witness to my part in this."

"Just kill him!" the other one shouted clearly tired of the argument.

"I can't," The man burst into another coughing fit and his hand wavered about Timothy's throat. Swinging out of the grip Timothy turned to face the other man; a small hooded figure. He found the blade that was about his neck firmly in his hand and with out thinking threw it at the figure. The polished metal glinted like a shooting star and then was masked by the darkness of night and the darkness of the figure. He, the figure, stepped forwards and then again another step but then seemed to be hit by something and fell backwards. A burned spike of smoking wood speared through his side, gouging an enormous chunk of flesh from him. Tunara wielding the wood through him aside, causing him to trip and collapse into the fire and gargled screams came from the mound of cloth in the fire but like the flames would they soon died out. Timothy turned to face the man that had held him and found that his hand had found it's way around his throat. This face he did recognise, immediately: Jonan.

"What are you…"

"I can explain Tim." Jonan spoke with a tremble and scratchy voice, having returned to his own.

"Then do." Timothy said squeezing just so that Jonan's voice would hurt that bit more when he spoke.

"I was," Jonan tried to clear his throat. "Saving you," He coughed like a cat trying to retrieve a hair ball. "Saving you I was, found one of their cloaks and tried to save you."

"BULLSHIT" Tunara shouted, I follow him from Cynodel's tent he had cut he throat and left her to drown in he own blood the sick bastard!" Tunara spat on Jonan who would have moved if it wasn't for Timothy's strong grip.

"That wasn't me!" Jonan screamed trying to reseed into his neck like a turtle.

Timothy paused for a moment, glaring at Jonan. He had once quite like Jonan, and it felt like somewhat of a betrayal to go on Tunara's word, who he didn't particularly consider a friend. Jonan began to look hopeful in the silence that pursued that only seemed to further unsettle Timothy.

"Bring me the knife there." Timothy said quickly gesturing to the blade he had tossed. Tunara retrieved it very quickly and passed it to Timothy's spare had. The whole blade was a red and dripping with bloody yet still ominously shined. "Is my neck cut?" Timothy asked her quietly.

"No." No sooner had Tunara said this, had Jonan let out an ear striking scream. Tunara and Timothy made there way through the blaze leaving Jonan to die with the knife through his ribs.

Zaren returned to the small gathered group with two more people over his shoulders and the prized spear in his had. His face was completely blacked by charcoal and his eyes pierced through them like light bulbs. It was Franklin that me him.

"Anyone else, survive?" Franklin asked immediately having recovered from his immobile state.

"I couldn't find anyone else but there were more hooded men than I would have liked to have fought, how many are here?" Zaren said matter-of-factly.

"You three make twenty three." Franklin responded with the same tone.

"We need to get out of the basin." Zaren said as much to himself as to Franklin.

"Agreed."


	7. Chapter 7

The journey out of the basin was a long and arduous one, guided mostly by Zaren. From time to time he would issue an instruction and like a wire the message was transmitted to them all. At the front of the group was a young boy named Tuntarene. Tuntarene was a short boy for his age of almost eight; his dark skin and fair hair were that of his parents, though they had died in the attack. Zaren had taken him into his care as he was the youngest child there with them. Tuntarene was a nimble thing hopping from one rock to another and made Zaren even look clumsy, which one must understand, is a feat in itself.

"Tuntarene, be careful, we don't anyone to fall." Zaren issued a warning to the boy as they ascended an almost over hanging section of the basin wall, it sloped backward in the slightest way possible but regardless was still enough to put everyone on edge and taxed there arms more than was needed.

"But Zaren I can do _this!_ " On the last syllable the boy through himself across a tiny ledge, one that could barely hold a toad and the boy held onto for only a second before swinging up again and lodging himself in-between two huge rocks, though away form Zaren's prying sight.

"BOY!" he yelled. "Tuntarene, can you still hear me?" Zaren sounded more terrified than he had at any point earlier in the night and with only the slightest light from the steadily rising sun he couldn't make out where Tuntarene had ended up.

"Yeah I'm fine, I found a sort of cave thing." The young boy's voice echoed out of the crack he had landed in before he himself emerged to quickly climb back up to where Zaren was climbing; leading the group.

The group emerged form the basin just as morning broke out and soon they had time to rest, though both Zaren and Franklin looked anxious, both uncomfortable being so much in the open. Amongst the groups that had formed Franklin sat with his father's best friend and several people he had previously not had much contact with; Jaden and Zectal. Franklin had only known Zactal from what Zaren had told him. And he barely knew Jaden except that he too had an old age name, like his late father and brother.

"Can we assume from the climb up that our new leader shall be Zaren?" Jaden was the first to talk of business, before this the group had been discussing how the surface was better than being trapped down in the basin.

"No the leader shall still be Franklin; it is still passed down in families." Zaren said giving Franklin the slightest smile which he didn't returned.

Zectal, disgruntled by this spoke up. "With such a change in the tribe would it not be wiser to hold an election to find which leader the people would want."

"The people don't know what they want, they are confused and at this point there needs to be a clear leader, once in place the group will follow without question." Zaren said tentatively while he watched Tuntarene playing with some of the older children.

"The longer the decision is delayed the more ill at ease the people will become, Franklin if you are to lead us, make it soon," Jaden spoke calmly and comfortingly tapping Franklin on the shoulder. Zaren took his leave swiftly when he noticed Ocarine, one of the older girls push, Tuntarene.

Momentarily all looks were directed at Zaren even Franklin offered him his attention then broke their curiosity by saying, "I will lead the group but will function differently to my father's. I will have a small council about me to assist and to advise me where they see fit, Zaren shall advise me, and lead the men as a protective force for the tribe. Yecht will join me and give me his knowledge of the area; he has been in these lands longer than all of us. Tanska will also advise me, she will be charged with keeping me informed with the wants of the people.

"Do you expect us to do nothing?" Jaden said as though he was about to spit, gesturing to both himself and Zectal beside him.

"Zectal as I understand it you speak the old tongue, is that true?" Franklin asked

"It is my mother spoke it too, but I can't say I a fluent." He replied

"That's quite alright, if we come across another tribe we may need you to speak for us, but until then you will do as Zaren instructs, same goes for you." He said looking at Jaden who looked as though he was close to exploding. "Yes Jaden do you have something to contribute?"

"With what has happened-" He spoke so loudly that some of the other tribesmen had turned to watch there talk; even Zaren on the other side of their gathering had turned to listen.

Calmly Franklin placed his finger over Jaden's mouth and said, "My father often said 'if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all', now tell me do you have something nice to say?" Like a baffled child Jaden took his leave of Franklin. Just as Zectal got to his feet Franklin grabbed his wrist, still sitting on the floor having hardly moved, "Also I would like you to stay close to him; I fear given an opportunity he will do anything to lead this small group." With a courteous nod Zectal too left.

Quickly Zaren rejoined Franklin with Tuntarene hot on his heels. "What was that about?" he said pointing a misguided thumb over his shoulder. Franklin only shrugged then Zaren continued, "Do you have a plan, those people won't stop following us."

"I know, but I need to know about them, you said you and father lived in Ochreton, what do you know about them?" Franklin asked watching Zaren's eyes closely.

Zaren turned and told Tuntarene to run off, back to Senal, the woman taking care of most of the children. "There is much to tell, but in Ochreton that group is called the Peace Keepers. They are not skilled killers but they are desperate, those in debt to the Witchdoctor often become Peace Keepers or those that ask of something form him. Your father and I had only met them once but the stories about them were horrifying. We would be wise to avoid them."

"You say they are unskilled, as apposed to what?" Zaren asked slightly fearing the answer.

"That'd be the Emerald Guard, they are a dangerous force and if the Witchdoctor thought we were a threat he would send them after us. There was one there in the camp last night, he was the only one armed with a gun." Zaren said sullenly, clearly remembering the events of the previous night that seemed like weeks ago already.

"Zaren will you gather Yecht and Tanska, we will need to plan ahead. I intend to travel east and meet my uncle's tribe, hopefully find safety there." Zaren nodded and gently jogged into the group to retrieve the people asked for.

Another slow hour passed as Franklin spoke to Yecht and Tanska. Both brought useful information to his attention. Yecht realised that with in the few that had survived the attack very few saw him favourably so advised that Franklin only ever meet him with others present as to avoid any mutinous attitudes. Tanska brought to Franklin's attention that the people had been sitting too long and were beginning to become restless especially with last nights activity.

"Very well we'll begin to walk east." Franklin said getting to his feet so that the entire tribe followed. "I'll lead."

"Can I say we may do well to travel north east for some time, the land directly east is littered with sink holes and quick sand, and to go south is a very long detour. There is another tribe to the north of those sink hole, the leaders name is Santalern, he will allow us safe passage if not some assistance"

"Thank you Yecht." Franklin said, "We'll be sure to do just that." Franklin walked through the tiny tribe that still existed; he was closely followed by Zaren and Tanska, per his request. Behind them followed Zectal and Jaden with Dural trying to keep up with the young men.


End file.
